September 14, 2007
Beside them danced
As I was driving to the grocery store the other day, I couldn't help but notice how sunflowers seemed to be blooming everywhere, their faces turned toward me in the afternoon light. I love how translucent the petals look that time of day, and I decided to stop along the road near a field of sunflowers, with the idea that I'd take a photo of some sunflowers, like all the other cool bloggers.
But taking a photo of the whole field proved impossible. When I walked up to the flowers, they were way taller than me, swaying above my head. I looked around for something to climb, but all I saw were sunflowers and more sunflowers, and after that, a lawn of grass that stretched to a barn and house. I stepped carefully into the field, turning to weave my body through the tall stalks. I took a few photos, then shoved the camera back into my pocket. When a wind came up, the flowers danced and twirled above my head, throwing shadows onto my arms. I held my hands up and swayed with the sunflowers.
When I walked out of the field and back to my car, I noticed a woman approaching me. She was about my age, dressed much the same as me in jeans and a sweatshirt. I figured she had come from the farmhouse next door and probably owned the field.
"Hey, " I said as she got closer. "I'm just taking some photos."
She gave me a strange look, and I noticed her glancing at my hands.
Was something wrong with my hands? I looked down at them, but they looked the same as they always did. Normal hands. But then in a flash, I figured it out: normal people who stop to take photos usually have cameras. Not for the first time, I wished I had some kind of impressive digital SLR hanging about my neck, instead of this tiny point-and-shoot camera shoved into my jeans pocket.
I dug the camera out of the pocket of my jeans and held it up to her. It didn't look very impressive, but she nodded.
"The sunflowers are beautiful," I said, still hoping to establish myself as a normal person.
She shrugged. "I wondered if you had a flat tire. I was checking to see if you needed help."
"Thanks, but I'm good."
Without another word, she turned and went back toward the house, the afternoon sun catching the auburn glints in her hair as she hurried along. I looked up at the sunflowers, mostly in shadow now, and got back into my car.
Posted by jo(e)